


A Small Token

by badskippy



Series: Bagginshield One-Offs [21]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Feels, Friendship, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: Thorin is sad but no one, not even him, will say.Fear not, Roac the Raven has already figured it out.And he has a plan!





	A Small Token

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/gifts), [aquileaofthelonelymountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/gifts), [LadyLaran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaran/gifts), [papermachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/papermachette/gifts).



> there is artwork that this is based on ... but i have NOT the permission to show it, so i will post only the story.
> 
> the artwork is here ... http://papermachette.tumblr.com/post/92238181160/thorin-and-his-raven

* * *

 

 

            The Ravens of Erebor were not your typical Ravens.  They lived longer than any feathered creature in Middle Earth, nearly two hundred years or so the legends say, and were beseeched, for they could not be owned, to be the particular companions of the Line of Durin.  As Mahal had created the Dwarrow, so did Manwë create the Ravens.  

            Because of their shared Valar creation, these Ravens often had strong relationships with the Dwarrow and helped or hindered were and how they saw fit.  And no stronger bond was there between Dwarf and Raven than that shared by Thorin son of Thrain and Roäc chick of Carc.

            When the dust and stench of The Battle of Five Armies cleared and the news that Thorin yet lived, the elderly Raven, then some one-hundred-and-fifty-three, returned to the Lonely Mountain and to the side of his friend and there the bird stood guard over the recovering king.  He could see the wounds mending each time the bandages were removed and replaced.  He could see the life returning slowly the Dwarf-king.

            But the son of the great Raven Carc could also see a sadness in the eyes of his friend that others could not see.  Or perhaps it was more that they would not acknowledge it.  At the very least, they seemed reluctant to comment on such things.

            Roäc, however, had no such hesitancy in speaking of it.

            “Why do you mourn?” asked the Raven, cocking his head to one side.

            Thorin turned his face away.  “I know not what you speak of.”

            “Liar.”

            “You know nothing of it.”

            “I know you are a Liar.  To me and to yourself.  Because if it were not a lie, you would denounce me a wretched thing and demand I retract my accusation.”

            “Go away, troublesome bird.”

            “You are a liar, Son of Thrain.  Why do you not admit your suffering?”  Thorin remained silent, giving not a word or look away to the black-bird, but the aged Raven figured it out in the end.  “Oh … of course … It is the _Half-ling_ that has affected you so.”

            Thorin’s head whipped around and he gave the Raven a heated glare.  “In my presence or not, you will not call him such names again!”

            Roäc crocked out a laugh.  “I am right!”

            Thorin turned away again.  “As I said, I know not what you speak of.”

            Roäc laughed again but Thorin lay still, staring away from the bird and soon they fell into a long silence once more.  Healers came and went, Thorin’s nephews visited, friends came to call, but still Roäc said nothing, waiting until night had fallen and only the candles lit the tent before returning to the subject that Thorin refused to talk of.

            “Do you wish me to bring him back?”  Roäc asked.

            Thorin did not move for a long time but finally shook his head so slightly that even the sharp-eyed bird barely saw it.  “He will not return.”

            “You do not know that.”

            “Yes.  Yes, I do.  I have caused great injury and betrayed him.”

            “He did the same to you, did he not?  Perhaps, therefore, he believes you do not _wish him_ to return.”

            “It matters not one way or the other.  He is probably a dozen leagues away by now.  He will not return.”  Thorin remained quiet for a few long moments before whispering, “He will _never_ return … not to me.”

            Roäc gave Thorin a piercing look and said softly, “All he needs is a small incentive to come back.”

            Thorin slowly turned over to look at Roäc.  “What are you saying?”

            The great bird stretched on his perch, his wings spread wide, and then shook himself, puffing his feathers so that they would lay easier and smoother.  “You wait.  I’ll return.”

            “Roäc!  Wait!  No!”

            But the bird had already spread his wings and with a great flap was up and out of the tent before Thorin could even sit up.  Where the bird was going, a stranger could only imagine, but Thorin knew the meddlesome thing well enough that he could guess.

            Four days later, on his first day out of the healing tent, enjoying the bright winter sun and the brisk, fresh air, Thorin was treated to the sight of a small black speck on the horizon that grew larger with every passing moment as it moved closer and closer, heading straight for him.

            Holding out his arm at the last moment, Roäc landed gracefully on Thorin’s forearm, gripping his leather vambrace with strong talons.

            “Where have you been, troublemaker?”  Thorin demanded.

            Roäc did not answer, only leaned forward and dropped a golden ring into Thorin’s free hand.  “I bring you a gift,” Roäc said, sounding amused.

            Thorin stared at the small trinket that seemed far heavier than any small thing should.  “What is this?”

            “A small token, Thorin, son of Thrain,” Roäc stated with a gleam in his eyes.  “Do not fret, your Hobbit will return to you shortly.  Trust me.  He will return.” 

 

 

 


End file.
